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“I read how some cities are building tiny home communities for homeless vets. They offer resources to get them jobs and mental health services. A lot like what you do—except for vets. Not a place where these ladies would feel comfortable though. Have you ever had residents with kids?”
“I tried that at first. It was hard. Not only the location for getting them to school or daycare, but I’d get attached to the children.”
“And eventually they’d leave.”
“Exactly.” Opening the wound of not having kids of her own. She’d thought of adopting. Instead, she’d somehow ended up with a rescue dog and then The Oasis. The oven timer went off before she got too emotional.
John stood out of the way as she took the lasagna out, the cheese melted to the perfect golden hue.
He grabbed napkins from the metal holder on the counter and set two on the kitchen table. “Forks?”
“You’re eating here?”
“If that’s okay with you. Boss already ate, and he’s not the best conversationalist. Sometimes I don’t have any idea what he’s saying.” John flashed that endearing grin.
She couldn’t help but laugh. He had a way of making her feel relaxed. It felt good, like who she’d been years ago, before Adam.
“Sure,” she said. It’d be rude to wrap up a plate and send him on his way now. She scooped a piece of lasagna onto her plate. “I wish I could tell if J.R. wants Ariana back or just not to testify.”
“That’s what I was wondering. And since today’s plan backfired, he could escalate. I want the punk punished for hurting Ariana, but she doesn’t have any long-term injuries—not physically anyway. If she’s definitely over him, maybe it’s better to call a truce rather than give him reasons to continue coming after her and to eff with her head.”
“I’ve been thinking about what’s best long term too. According to Jillian, if Ariana dropped the charges, it’d still go on his record, but he wouldn’t do time. Her attorney could request a restraining order.” She served up a double serving of lasagna on the second plate.
“Do you have a preferred seat?” John asked when she handed him his plate.
“I usually sit facing the window, but it doesn’t matter.” She discreetly took the plastic wrap off John’s salad bowl while he wasn’t looking, then set both on the table.
“More wine?” He picked up the bottle and held it over her glass.
“That’d be good.” Typically, she only drank one glass, but a second might help her relax enough to get through dinner with John. Three lowered her inhibitions too much. Who knew what she’d say? She didn’t need to lead John on.
John took a bite of lasagna, closed his eyes, and made happy noises. “I can see why they rave about your lasagna. This is delicious.” He took another large bite. “Does Ariana have any family she could stay with? Someplace far from J.R.?”
“Unfortunately, no. She and her younger sister were in foster care, then aged out. It’s a tough transition, and it made her vulnerable, which can be what guys like J.R. look for. Make the woman dependent on them. Even compliant.”
“I figured she may not have family, with her being here, but . . .” John’s mouth pursed. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“I think so. She’s smart and mentally strong. She got out of that relationship before things got too bad. She hadn’t been trafficked or fallen into a pattern of one bad relationship after another. Long term, any kind of abuse can wreck a person’s self-confidence and keep them trapped. Sometimes, living with different men to keep from being homeless.”
John’s solemn expression deepened. “What about Wren? She mentioned having a daughter. She can’t help her?”
“Wren has a daughter and son. Neither would take her in after she finally left her second husband. He helped raise the kids, so divided loyalty came into play. She’s estranged from her mother and wouldn’t ask her for help. A lot of the women who’ve stayed here have families, but relations are usually strained. Each woman’s story is different. Stories that aren’t pretty and they’re usually complicated.” At least the side she heard.
“The two women at the VFW last week lived here the same time as Wren?”
“Yes. They all got along, but with their age and personality differences, living together wouldn’t be ideal.”
He nodded. “What’s it going to take for Wren to move out?” He took another bite of lasagna.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Maybe getting a better offer? She has friends she goes out with, but she hasn’t mentioned moving in with any of them. She’s not crazy about my restrictions and thinks I don’t know she smokes outside the house. My intention was for this to be short term—a better option than a woman’s shelter to help them get a fresh start, but I don’t have a time limit in the contract. With tiny homes, I’ve never needed one before.”
John laughed. “I get that. If she does want a place, I can keep an ear out for anyone looking to sublet when they deploy. She’d have to understand there’s a time limit though. When my first sergeant was based in Hawaii, he came back from a deployment and couldn’t get the people out. He ended up bunking on a friend’s couch for months. He still tells the story about those squatters. They trashed his place before they finally moved out too.”
“That’s awful. I can’t believe someone would do that to someone serving our country.”
“That’s not the worst I’ve heard. Houses robbed, credit card fraud, infidelity.” He raised his eyebrows. “At least I wasn’t married, or even engaged. And I’m here—and hoping it’s okay if I get more lasagna.”
“Of course.”
